14. A Trip to the Outer Banks

FOURTEEN

a trip to the outer banks

Thorne, Micah, and I are ready to leave for North Carolina less than an hour after leaving the bar. It took several conversations with Francis to convince her that she would be more help here, with Connor and Luna, preparing the lycan for Kragen's eventual arrival in Charleston. She's still not convinced but finally relents and agrees to stay.

The drive to the airport doesn't take long. The few items I shoved into my backpack are close to me as Micah drives.

"You own a plane?" Micah asks, for the third time.

"Aye. It belonged to my maker, but I have full access to it at any time."

As promised, we pull into the airport and head straight to the tarmac and the awaiting private jet. We board, and the doors are up less than ten minutes later.

"We are shooting for a landing in a municipal airport. The powers that be, have requested a landing in Raleigh Durham, but we're going to ignore their request," a voice says over the loudspeaker. "With that being said, we should be arriving within the hour."

We're barely in the sky before the plane begins to descend. "What's the plan?" Micah speaks for the first time since boarding.

"I've been studying maps since leaving. Other than driving the length of the islands and stopping to ask people along the way, I don't have one," Thorne answers. "I don't know what we're going to find or if we'll even find anything."

"If Kragen has been here for centuries, the humans that know something will be smart enough to keep quiet," I add.

"It's going to be a rough landing," the pilot says over the speaker. "We should be fine but hold on."

"What the hell?" Micah asks, looking through a small window. "Is this the normal pilot?"

Thorne laughs. "Yeah. He's good. We'll be fine."

Micah checks his seatbelt several times, before pushing back in his seat and closing his eyes. Thorne and I would survive a crash—Micah wouldn't. The plane touches down and stops like a well-choreographed dance. Micah's sigh is loud enough to bounce off the walls of the plane.

"Perfect," the pilot says over the speaker. "I will await your return…if they'll let me. "

I make a mental note to meet our captain. He's badass.

The airport is everything you'd expect a small rural airport to be. Not much of anything. A single runway and a small building are the only things on the property. An older man runs from the building, straight toward us. "This isn't going to be good," Thorne mutters.

"What the hell are you doing?" the man yells. "You could've run off the end of the runway. We're not set up for a plane of that size."

The three of us share a look. "We won't be long," Micah answers. "Do you have Uber up here?"

"Uber? No. Hell, no. Get that plane off the runway."

"The pilot is inside," I point toward the empty jet.

"Dammit," the man answers, moving past us.

"Looks like an Uber is out of the question." Micah pulls out his phone, holding it high in the sky. "It also looks like phone service is out of the question."

Entering the small building, I'm surprised to see only one other person inside. A young woman behind a desk sits a little straighter as we enter. "Hello?" She smiles. "How can I help you?" Her words are slow and drawn out as she stares at the men on either side of me. Honestly, I don't blame her.

"We need transportation. Is there a service here anywhere? Maybe a taxi or an Uber?" I ask, drawing her attention to me .

"Honey, there ain't no Uber in these parts. We don't get many tourists out here."

"How do people leave the airport?" Micah asks.

"Well, they drive their car here and then take it home. The only people that fly in and out of here are agricultural pilots and a few scientists now and again."

Thorne leaves my side, moving to the edge of the woman's desk. He leans on the corner, crossing one long leg over the other. "I love your accent. Where are you from?"

Her cheeks turn red as he speaks. "Charlotte," she answers. "You really like my accent?"

"I do. It's very…charming." In a normal world, I would be jealous of his attempt to charm this woman. Today, I find it amusing.

"Why, thank you. I like yours, too. It reminds me of that TV show. You know, the one with the time-traveling woman and the hot red-headed man? Outlandish? No, Outlander. That's it, Outlander."

Thorne reaches down, picking up her nameplate off the desk. "Brittney? Such a lovely name for a lovely lady." He takes special attention to roll his r's, and I resist the urge to roll my eyes. Brittney, however, has fallen in love, and I'm enjoying the entertainment.

"You know what?" She pulls her watch in front of her face dramatically. "I'm off the clock in ten minutes. How about I drive y'all where you need to go?"

"Brittney, you'd do that?" Thorne turns toward us. "I guess Southern hospitality isn't just a myth. "

"Aye," Micah answers, using the worst brogue I've heard.

Brittney stands from her desk. "Give me a few." She brushes Thorne's shoulder as she passes.

Several minutes pass before Brittney appears again. Her hair looks freshly combed, and bright red lipstick covers her lips. "I'm ready if y'all are."

"We're ready," Thorne answers. We follow the woman to a dirty white minivan parked in front.

"I hope you don't mind the mess." She pushes a button, and the doors slide open on the side. "Let me move these out of the way." She unhooks two car seats, throwing them in the back seat of the van. "My babies are with my ex tonight, so this is perfect."

Micah and I climb in the middle row, shoving half-eaten french fries and leftover chicken nuggets to the floor, while Thorne climbs into the front. "Thank you, Brittney. You're a lifesaver."

"You're welcome, sugar. Now where can I take you?"

"We're looking for someone," I speak for the first time in a while. "He's a distant relative of mine. His name is Kragen, but I'm not sure if he goes by another name."

"Is that his first name or last?" she asks.

Thorne turns toward me with a questionable look on his face. "We've never heard any other name besides Kragen. "

"Okay," she answers. "Where in the Banks does he live?"

"We don't know that either," Micah answers.

"We were just hoping to drive the length of the Banks and ask the locals if they've for information," Thorne adds.

Brittney turns toward the vampire in her front seat. "That's your plan?"

"Aye," he answers, turning on the charm.

"You're in luck." Brittney smiles as she speaks. "My family has been here since people first started coming here. I know just who to ask." She pulls out of the parking lot, throwing the three of us backward in our seats.

The drive along the Outer Banks is beautiful. The sun setting over the Atlantic is the perfect backdrop for a minivan ride. Brittney has resorted to sharing stories from the Outlander series she's watched, and Thorne is pretending to listen.

I'm not sure how long we've traveled before she turns off the main road onto one covered with sand and gravel. "We're here," she says in a singsong voice. She pulls the van to a stop in front of a home high on stilts. Bright headlights shine off of the wooden facade. "Let me go in first."

We watch as the chipper woman climbs two flights of stairs and knocks on the front door. "This feels like the beginning of a horror movie," Micah says beside me .

Brittney disappears into the cabin as soon as the door opens. Several minutes pass before she reappears. She bounces down the stairs with a smile on her face. "Come on in," she says, opening the driver's side door.

The three of us follow her to the door of the cabin. "Now, I need to warn you. He can be a bit cantankerous at times." She opens the door wide. "Papaw? These are the people I was telling you about."

"Hello, sir." Thorne takes the lead. "Thank you for allowing us into your home."

An older man stands from a chair in the corner of the dark room. Deer heads, large fish, and other animals adorn the wooden paneled walls. "What do you want?" he asks.

"We're looking for information on someone who lived in the Banks many years ago," I answer.

"Why not use one of them fancy new computers they have now? I've heard tell you can find anythin' from pussy to flowers."

"Papaw," Brittney reprimands. "Behave."

"I am behavin'." He moves closer toward us. "Who ya' lookin' for?"

"A man named Kragen. He would be around my age with dark hair and eyes," Thorne answers.

"Kragen, you say?"

"Yes, sir."

"I don't recollect anyone named Kragen in the Banks. Now, there is a man with the last name Kraver that kind of fits your description." Bumps cover my skin at the mention of the name. That has to be him.

"Do you know where we could find him?" Micah asks.

The old man huffs a laugh. "Hell, he used to hang out at the Minnow Bucket years ago. I heard tell that he still comes around every now and again."

"The Minnow Bucket?" I ask.

"It's a bar not too far from here," Brittney fills in the blanks.

"Weird thing though," the man continues. "I thought I seen him not too long ago. Been near thirty years since I seent him last. If it were him, he ain't aged a damn day." He makes a strange face. "Must have some strong genes to produce a kid that looks that much like him."

"Can you take us to the bar?" Thorne asks.

Brittney shrugs. "Sure." She turns toward the old man. "Thank you, Papaw. I'll bring you some gumbo tomorrow."

"I'd like that," he answers, moving back to his chair in the corner. "Bring me some of that cornbread when you do. It reminds me of your Mamaw's."

Brittney kisses the man on the forehead before leading us out the front door and back to the awaiting van. "Ready to go to a bar?" she asks, winking at Thorne.

"Aye," he answers, returning the wink. "I've never been to an American bar. This should be fun. "

"Well, the Minnow Bucket isn't usually classified as fun." We drive ten more miles up the narrow road before she turns into a dimly lit parking lot. In front of us is a building that looks like it's been through its fair share of hurricanes. An old neon sign flashes on and off, along with the image of a fish being thrown out of a bucket of water. "This is it."

The moment the van pulls to a stop, I feel the sensation of something otherworldly. Someone or something is here. Micah, Thorne, and I share a look, telling me they feel it too.

"Don't look like many people are here tonight." Brittney exits the van.

The sensation grows as we walk through the front door. Micah and Thorne crowd around me protectively. Neither one of them would stand a chance against Kragen if he's the energy we're feeling.

"Brittney! What are you doing here on a school night?" an older woman welcomes us.

"Bobby's got the kids tonight. I'm bringing my new friends to my favorite establishment."

"Howdy, folks. What can I get you to drink?" she asks.

"Nothing for me," Thorne answers.

"Water," Micah adds. I ignore the question, searching every square inch of the room for the source of the energy.

"Sure thing, baby." She returns minutes later with Micah's water. "What brings you folks out here? We don't get many out-of-towners in these parts. Most tourists stick to the big cities."

"We're looking for a man named Kragen or Kraver?"

"Kraver?" the woman repeats. "I think he's out of town." She turns toward a man in the corner. "Jimmy? Is Kraver out of town?"

"Who wants to know," the man answers. He stands, and every hair on my body stands at attention. He's a vampire and the source of the energy.

Thorne and Micah sense him and turn at the same time. "We're doing some genealogy research, and his name kept coming up," I answer.

A deep laugh fills the small room. "You've got the wrong person. Kraver can't have kids." He continues to move closer. "I smell him on you." He glares in my direction. "His blood runs through your veins."

I need to escape this building, now. "Where is he?" I refuse to back down.

"That's for me to know and you to find out," he continues. "Maybe that will be sooner than you think."

Thorne steps in front of me. "This will not end well for you. My friend and I will rip you to shreds."

Jimmy sniffs the air toward Micah. "Lycan dogs don't scare me."

"I'm not trying to scare you," Micah answers. "You'll be dead before that emotion reaches the surface. Where is Kraver?"

Jimmy smiles, revealing razor-sharp teeth. "It's a good thing I'm feeling kind tonight." He backs up, giving us space. "He ain't here."

"Tell him we will find him, and when we do, his days are numbered," Thorne warns.

"Did you steal that from a book or something?"

"Or something."

Out of nowhere, Brittney steps in the middle of the vampire-lycanthrope pissing match. She's either brave or stupid. I'm not sure which. "Well, that was fun. Did you find the answers you were looking for?"

"Aye, we did," Thorne answers.

"That's right. Run, pretty boy…back to your rich maker. I can smell him all over you," Jimmy continues.

"My maker is dead, as yours will be, too." Thorne turns, wrapping an arm through mine and pulling me toward the door. Micah follows closely behind. Each of them offering their protection.

"Bye!" Brittney says behind us. "I'll see y'all Friday night. Mama's gettin' wasted." The lights on the van flash and the doors slide open. "What was that back there? Were you trying to get yourself killed?" Brittney waits until we're several miles away before speaking. "Jimmy's somewhat of a loose cannon. If he does know this friend of yours, I can guarantee they're up to no good."

"That's an understatement," Micah answers.

We drive the rest of the way to the airport in silence, and I'm grateful. My emotions are all over the place at the moment, and I'm not sure what I'll say if provoked .

"It's been a pleasure to meet y'all. I hope you'll come back again, and we can explore during the daytime. The Outer Banks are truly beautiful," Brittney says as she pulls in front of the airport.

"Thank you for your time." Thorne hands her a wad of rolled-up money. "You have been an outstanding tour guide and extremely helpful."

"Oh, I can't accept this," she argues, trying to hand the money back.

"I insist." He smiles and even in the dark, I can see the redness return to her cheeks.

"If you insist. Anytime you folks need a tour guide, let me know. I'm more than willing to help you out." She hands Thorne a piece of paper with numbers scratched on it.

I'm surprised to find the jet still sitting in the middle of the runway. The man who we saw earlier is sitting at Brittney's desk, and the anger has left him. "Hello?" he greets us.

"Is everything okay?" Micah asks.

"Yeah. Your pilot paid enough money, he can park that damn thing anywhere he wants." He leans back, propping his legs on the desk. "Anytime you folks need to come back, we're open."

We walk back to the jet and climb on board. "Welcome back!" the invisible pilot greets us. "I hope you had an eventful evening. We will be departing for a return to Charleston shortly. "

The sound of jet engines roaring to life echoes through the hull, and just as promised, we are in the air and on our way home.